Edge of Tomorrow (79 page)

“OK, here’s what we’re going to do, Bruno.
Call Janet, or whoever is on duty at the GS-V, and have them rent a
car at the airport and whip on over to the ER entrance. We’ll put
Judy in a wheelchair and wheel her out to the car and whisk her to
the plane. I’ll have Carmelo, Coffer and our medic meet the plane
in the chopper; then they can take her to the med unit in Coffer’s
compound behind the castle. If the medic thinks it’s necessary, she
can bring in one of our contract doctors from Rome,” said
Hatch.

Hatch then turned to Judy Beecher and said,
“This move could kill you, Judy. Are you sure you want to try
this?”

She rasped, “I’m dead if I stay here! Let’s
do it!”

“OK. Just rest for now. We have some things
to do. Let’s hope no one else shows up right away.”

• • •

By 5:45 P.M., Judy Beecher was winging her
way to safety, and Hatch and Bruno were back at the hotel in
Hatch’s suite sipping stiff drinks.

They had dressed the dead CIA agent in a
hospital gown and placed her in Lady Morley’s bed, attached the IV
and turned out the lights when they left. Their plan had gone
smoothly. Bruno had barked in Italian at some ER personnel when
they rolled Lady Morley through there to the exit. Some of them had
wanted to know what was going on. They had no idea what would
happen when the hospital staff—and the CIA—discovered the
deception. As it turned out, there was a shift change at 6:00 P.M.,
and the new nurse reported that the woman in Room 41 had
died—probably of a heart attack. The mix-up would be straightened
out several hours later—and the police notified—but in the
meantime, Dave Wilson of the CIA had a problem: he did hear that
Lady Morley had died on schedule, but the female agent playing the
nurse had disappeared. Where was she?

• • •

Hatch took a slug of his Stoli on the rocks
and lit a cigarette.

Bruno said, “Why did the CIA try to kill one
of their own?”

“They thought she was a liability. I’m sorry
I got you involved in the death of that hit woman. I had to know if
that syringe held a fatal serum or not. That was the quickest way
to find out,” replied Hatch.

“Don’t worry about it, Hatch. She was about
to commit murder. If she had tried to use that needle on you or
Lady Morley, I would have shot her anyway. This way is cleaner.
Well, I guess I had better try and get into my fop costume,”
laughed Bruno.

“Me, too. One last thing, Bruno. We may
have to tell Sara and Syd about what happened—depending on how
things develop later. I don’t know how intimate you have become
with Karen, but I don’t think she should know about this.
Comprende
?”

“OK. I even agree with you on that. About me
and Karen …”

“You don’t need to tell me anything about
your relationship. That’s between the two of you. Just don’t let it
distract you.”

• • •

Syd’s feeling of being transported back into
history was complete when she and Hatch entered the Royal Ballroom.
The Prince sat in a throne chair up on a platform so he could look
down on the floor teeming with people in period costumes. Syd
recognized several movie stars, and other faces that seemed
familiar, but she could not dredge up any names. Most of the
royalty—and pseudo-royalty—of Europe were there.

There were two 40 foot tables laden with all
sorts of delicacies—huge shrimps, cold lobster tails, the best
caviar, et cetera. The centerpieces were swans sculpted out of ice.
A large symphonic orchestra was providing the music. Twelve
professional dancers—six male, six female—began demonstrating some
popular dances from the mid-nineteenth century. After twenty
minutes, at some unseen signal, many of the locals who knew the
dances joined the professionals on the dance floor. An endless
stream of waiters circulated with trays of expensive champagne. At
nine o’clock, the orchestra began playing waltzes, and Syd, Karen,
and Sara dragged their escorts onto the floor and swirled dizzily
around and around, laughing gaily. Every hour on the hour, the
dancing was halted so several famous divas and male opera singers
could entertain the happy crowd with popular arias.

• • •

At 11:00 P.M., after another fabulous waltz,
Syd and Hatch moved off the dance floor and looked around for their
compatriots.

Syd remarked, “This has been a glorious
evening, darling! It’s like being in a movie!”

“I agree, dear. That last waltz made me
thirsty. Would you like another glass of champagne?” replied
Hatch.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

“I see a waiter with a tray full over there.
I’ll be right back.”

• • •

Not far away, Monterran Count Roberto di
Cressi had been watching the couple. He wanted to catch Syd alone
if he could. It was part of his plan. Count di Cressi was a
compulsive gambler, and not a very good one. He had huge gambling
debts, and when he found someone to loan him money to cover them,
he found out too late who had loaned him the money: the Mafia. The
night before, Evio Tessitore had made him an offer which, of
course, he could not refuse. They would forgive his debt if he
would kill Van Lincoln in a way that would not throw suspicion on
the Mafia.

Count di Cressi had a perfect plan to
accomplish this. It would not even be considered murder. He would
arrange for Lincoln to publicly insult him so he could challenge
him to a duel. Being an expert swordsman, he had no doubt of his
ability to dispatch an American businessman with his sword. And
being the injured party, he would get choice of weapons. He was
looking forward to wiping out his gambling debts, but also to the
opportunity to enhance his reputation as a fearless swordsman who
always defended his honor.

He sidled up to Syd, and in a voice no one
could hear except Syd, he said, “How much does a fancy American
whore like you charge these days? I bet you’re really making a
bundle off that rich whoremonger! Are the other two sluts whores,
too?”

Syd could not believe her ears. She looked
around to see if someone else was there, but there was not.

“I beg your pardon! Are you addressing me,
sir?” she snapped.

“Of course. I thought if you were cheap
enough, I’d buy an hour of your time, but I prefer larger tits,” he
continued. “Maybe the tall blonde.”

Syd felt rage surge up, and without thinking
about where she was, she slapped di Cressi hard across the mouth,
drawing blood. She suddenly realized where she was and froze just
before she was about to break his collar bone with a sharp blow.
Fortunately, Hatch arrived with two glasses filled with champagne
before she had to decide what to do next.

“What’s the problem here, dear? This man
bothering you?” asked Hatch as he sat the two glasses down on a
table.

“Yes!” she snapped. “This arrogant jerk just
called me a whore!”

“You did
what
?” growled Hatch as he stepped closer to di
Cressi.

“The lady is lying. I was merely commenting
on her beauty,” sneered Count di Cressi.

“She never lies!” snapped Hatch.

“Then, are you saying I’m lying?” said di
Cressi, setting his trap.

“You’re not only a liar, you are now in deep
shit, buddy!”

Hatch grabbed his arm and continued, “Let’s
take a little stroll outside so I can teach you some manners!”

Count di Cressi jerked his arm away and
snapped haughtily, “Unhand me, sir! Not only have you called me a
liar, you have laid hands on me! I demand satisfaction! My second
will call upon you!”

Hatch exclaimed with astonishment, “You’re
challenging me to a duel? You must be crazy! Dueling is illegal!
Come outside and I’ll beat the crap out of you!”

“I am Count Roberto di Cressi! I do not
involve myself in common street brawls! And,
signore
, you are in Monterra. Dueling is quite
legal here, and unless you are a sniveling bourgeois coward, you
will meet me on the field of honor and face the strength of my
steel!”

Captain Rossini appeared at Hatch’s side and
said, “Well, di Cressi, what trouble are you causing now?”

“That is
Count
di Cressi, Captain! Remember your place!”
snapped the count.

“He insulted Syd, and now he says I have to
fight a duel with him,” growled Hatch, and then he related the
incident to Captain Rossini.

A few guests were now staring in their
direction, wondering what the disturbance was. Rossini took Hatch
and Syd a few feet away so they could talk in private.

Rossini said, “It’s quite true that dueling
is legal here. Count di Cressi is well known here for tricking
novices into duels so he can overwhelm them with his swordplay
prowess and feed his ego. I would have challenged him and dispersed
with him long ago, but His Highness has forbidden his officers to
challenge royalty. He is not about to challenge me. What he has
done is set you up into ‘giving the lie.’ He made you call him a
liar so he can be the offended party and get choice of
weapons.”

“The sword, I presume,” remarked Hatch.

“Of course. He is a fair fencer—certainly
better than those he tricks into a duel. He always draws first
blood, then prances around like a bloody rooster. God, I wish the
Prince would let me have at him! Put an end to his tricks!”

“You’re a good fencer, then?” asked
Hatch.

“Yes,” he answered without false modesty. “I
am the champion of the Royal Guard. I took third in saber at the
last World Championships. Little good that does you, however.”

Syd interrupted, “This is all nonsense!
He insulted
me
, and I
slapped
him
! It’s really
between the two of us! I wish now that I’d broken his friggin’
collarbone! Then he wouldn’t be dueling anyone!”

Rossini replied, “I can petition the Prince
to have the duel nullified. He has final authority over all duels.
He will be quite upset when he finds out that one of his guests has
been lured by di Cressi.”

“Wait a minute, Captain. Let me think,” said
Hatch.

Syd exclaimed, “Wait my ass! Go do it,
Charles! And have that asshole thrown
out
of here! The whole thing is
ridiculous!”

Hatch usually did not spend much time
pondering over decisions. He weighed the pros and cons and made a
decision rather quickly. This practice went back as far as his
flying days and then later during his stint as an assassin. To fly
or not to fly? To shoot or not to shoot? Those were simple
questions with binary choices.

He now found himself in an unusual dilemma,
however. He didn’t mind being called a coward if he refused the
duel—or if the Prince negated it. Anyone with any brains would see
it for what it was: a sneaky setup by di Cressi.

What bothered Hatch, however, was that di
Cressi had insulted Syd and, therefore, must be thoroughly punished
for that unforgivable transgression. There were many ways for him
to accomplish this without dueling the asshole—beat the shit out of
him later, crush him financially, make the man’s life a living
nightmare. Hatch felt compelled to do something right away,
however, while the insult was foremost in his mind.

Hatch said to Rossini, “I have had some
training in fencing. What kind of swords will he choose?”

Rossini looked at him with a frown and
replied, “Surely, you’re not thinking of going through with this?
He has fought dozens of real duels!”

“Humor me for a moment. What kind of
weapons?”

“Technically, they would be called
shortswords, the successor to the rapier, but with a shorter blade.
Very similar in length and weight to a practice fencing saber—maybe
a little heavier. In dueling circles, they are referred to as
Italian dueling sabers. He has a beautifully-crafted set. I have a
pair of my own which I prefer over his. Have you fenced saber?”

“Yes. My maestro is Baron von Hochsburg in
Vienna. Do you know of him?”

“Of course! He is one of the best in the
world! Especially in saber!” gasped Rossini. “He doesn’t take on
novices! Maybe you have a chance here!”

“I don’t like the sound of this, Hatch! I saw
you fence in Vienna, but that was for fun. This is for real!”
exclaimed Syd, very upset.

At this moment, Sara joined them, wondering
what was keeping her dancing partner. Karen and Bruno were right
behind her. In the meantime, Count di Cressi was strutting around
with some of his cronies, watching the meeting with interest. He
was hoping that the rich American’s ego would not allow him to back
out of the duel. He had to make a legal kill to get Tessitore off
his back.

• • •

While Captain Rossini explained to the
newcomers what had happened, Hatch continued to ponder his options.
He had read many accounts of the history of dueling from the
15
^th
century through the
19
^th
century, up until it was
universally banned—everywhere except Monterra, evidently. Most
affairs of honor were settled by “first blood,” since, usually,
neither participant really wanted to get badly hurt or killed.
Those types of duelists preferred swords with cutting edges on the
blades—like those di Cressi used—because thrusting weapons such as
the
epee
could deliver
crippling or fatal wounds.

The other type of duel was “to the death,” or
until one party cried “yield.” Those kinds of duels often had no
gentlemanly rules. Hatch had read accounts of duels where opponents
threw sand in the eyes of their opponent, grabbed the blade, kicked
and tripped their adversary, and did anything to survive—and win.
Sometimes, both died from their wounds. Also, running your opponent
through did not always win the fight, because the men fought
fiercely until their last breath, sometimes with multiple
wounds.